


Glad You're Here

by FallinDeath



Series: A Rowan Tabris Tale [2]
Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Happy Sex, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-09
Updated: 2017-05-22
Packaged: 2018-02-08 03:03:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1924332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FallinDeath/pseuds/FallinDeath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fun, happy sex. Takes place after the Arch demon is killed. Zevran rescues his warden from his responsibilities if only for an afternoon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part 1

Rowan knew only one thing at the moment and that was just how much he did not want to be there right now.

The Blight was over. Barely. Not a full week ago. He'd survived…thanks to Morrigan. He shuddered thinking about it—the unknown consequences of his actions preyed on his mind when he wasn't occupied with other things. But he couldn't make himself be sorry that he survived. Perhaps that was selfish, but after all he'd been through he figured he deserved to be a little selfish…just a _little_.

The tiresome thing at the moment was yet another meeting with Lord of _this_ and Lady of _that_. Did none of these shem realize how much he needed to just rest? To sleep for a week without disturbance was all he really wanted. He may have survived killing the Arch demon but he certainly hadn't come away unscathed. All the fighting throughout Denerim before hand and then the actual killing blow had taken their toll. He was told there was a great explosion and the next he knew he was waking up two days later in the castle, which had thankfully survived the darkspawn.

The nobles, he understood that they all wanted to express their gratitude and offer their allegiances not only to Alistair, their new king, but to the newly appointed Warden Commander. But honestly, if he was forced to sit through one more formality he was going to rip his hair out. Not a very manly thing to do, but he was going to do it nonetheless. Zevran, for one, would mourn the loss of his hair.

Speaking of the other elf he looked across the table to Zevran. The Antivan was his anchor through all this. He made it possible to bear. Rowan often found himself searching the crowds desperately for his lover when he was surrounded by the shem. Unfortunately he was still not entirely comfortable in their company. Life in the Alienage, and what happened in Fort Drakon were not so easily forgotten. When he found his sexy lover talking up the people around him like it was the most natural thing in the world, it put Rowan at ease. Especially when Zevran often met his gaze and offered a smile and a wink, as if he'd felt his warden's need for reassurance.

Zevran did that now. But this time, there must have been something in Rowan's expression that the Antivan interpreted as a serious call for help. Before Rowan knew what was happening Zevran was yanking him to his feet and pulling him from the hall amidst protests from King Alistair and the posted guard who would oversee the proceedings.

"Excuse me, my lords," Zevran called over his shoulder, his thick Antivan accent curling a deep warmth in Rowan's stomach. "But something very pressing has just come up that demands the Warden Commander's attention."

Zevran always sounded so confident, unquestionable. Rowan never really got a grasp on that particular skill. Luckily for him, everyone was at the moment so awed by him that it didn't matter what he said, they listened like he was the Maker himself; the Hero of Ferelden. He could probably get away with scratching his bum in front of them like good ol' Sandal and they wouldn't fault him for it. He wondered how long such fame would last. How long before they forgot what he did for them? How long before elves were just dirty, lowly knife-ears again…?

"What?" Alistair stumbled over his surprise at their abrupt departure for a moment. "You can't leave me here alone. H-hey! _Wait_."

Once out the door, Zevran cast an entirely too mischievous grin over his shoulder at his warden and Rowan found himself laughing.

They had only turned a few corners when they heard the Hall's doors bang open and Alistair shouting for guards to bring them back because he was _not facing the nobles without them_.

Rowan laughed again. He couldn't help it. It seemed to be contagious because Zevran turned to jog backwards still holding his hand, chuckling low so as not to be heard.

"Quiet, my dear warden," he grinned, whispering. "We are escaping in secret."

This of course, only started a giggling fit that Rowan strove valiantly to keep quiet, but he was failing miserably. They heard the stomping of armor boots clanging loudly down the hall behind them. The guards were gaining ground. There were no doorways to duck into, and the hall was long. Zevran pulled his warden into a mad dash to reach the end of the hall before the guards passed the corridor entrance. Just in time he yanked Rowan around the corner after him. Pressing his back against the brick wall he pulled his warden into his arms back to chest and covered Rowan's mouth with his hand.

The breath from his lover's nose blew across his knuckles in rapid, excited puffs. Rowan was still trying to control his quiet laughter. While they listened to their passing pursuers' footsteps, Zevran took advantage of their position and nuzzled into his lover's deliciously long orange hair—the lighter orange of sunrise…

Zevran inhaled his scent and whispered in his sensitive ear. "May I remind you, my delectable warden, that we are attempting to be _incognito_." Rowan's shoulders shook with a new bout of muffled laughter. Zevran could barely contain his own mirth. "Fine. I have no choice but to punish you."

He pulled Rowan with him a little farther down until they found an empty sitting room. Zevran pushed his warden inside then locked the door behind them. The curtains over the tall floor to ceiling windows were tied back and the late afternoon sun lit the small but elegantly tasteful couches and end tables that were centered around a very thick, richly patterned rug that covered much of the floor. It looked comfortably warmed by the sun streaming through the windows and too inviting to pass up.

When Rowan turned to him Zevran grabbed his lover's biceps and guided him backwards ahead of him till they reached the center of the plush rug. Then he quite happily shoved Rowan onto his back. A whoosh of air escaped Rowan's lungs when he landed, but he was laughing too much to care.

Zevran stood over him, hands on his hips, a triumphant smirk played across his lips. His beloved warden, out of breath, beautiful in his laughter, splayed before him. Those lavender eyes that made him ache staring up at him. It was a heady feeling knowing the young hero belonged to him.

"My dearest," he said. "Do you have any idea what I'm going to do to you?"

Rowan halted his laughter long enough to attempt a controlled answer.

"I have an inkling," he said, grinning back.

"Oh, you do, do you?" Zevran chuckled when Rowan winked at him and rolled his hips up once. With an eyebrow quirked, Zevran continued. "I see you do."

Zevran stepped up between his warden's spread legs and started pulling off his richly colored vest and silk shirt. Rowan sucked in his laughter to moan softly at the sight of the Antivan's tan, naked chest. Zevran smirked, rubbing one hand over his taut abdomen and then up to circle a nipple. Rowan shifted against the rug and sucked his bottom lip between his teeth. Zevran watched it slip out slowly. Catching himself before a moan of his own escaped, Zevran looked back up to meet that lavender gaze.

"You like what you see, _Commander_?" Zevran asked with a growing smile.

"Mmm, yes," Rowan's brow drew together in want.

"Well, you can't have it," Zevran deadpanned and turned to walk away.

"What?" Rowan sat straight up, watching his lover's back as he walked to the door. He quickly pulled off his boot and chucked it at the blonde.

Zevran's lifetime training as an assassin was the only thing that saved him from the projectile. Jumping to the side as the boot hit the door Zevran turned back to his lover with a wicked grin.

"Violence, Rowan?" Zevran tsked as he slowly moved back to his waiting lover.

"And much more if you don't get over here," Rowan promised. Zevran chuckled, approaching as slowly as any good assassin stalking a target.

"Take off your shirt first, if you please," he said. Rowan lifted a brow, but quickly obeyed. Zevran gave a low whistle once his lover's upper body was revealed. "The belt now, take it off." Again Rowan did as he was told. When Zevran stopped at his feet and simply stared at him, he grew impatient.

"Zevran, if you do not- _ah_!"

The Antivan reached down so quickly that Rowan had no time to react. Zevran grabbed his other foot and yanked it up causing him to fall back against the rug. Rowan laughed as his boot was pulled off and tossed over a shoulder. Then he felt a testing tug on both pant legs before, in one great tug, his trousers were yanked right off.

"Zevran!"

"Oh, my dear dear warden," Zevran cooed. "That is what I like to see." Rowan blushed, not because he was embarrassed about not wearing any small clothes underneath, but because Zevran drew embarrassing, heated attention to everything Rowan did that aroused the assassin. Rowan learned early on that what aroused his lover doubled his own need.

"Mmn, Zevran," Rowan groaned when the blonde knelt on the rug beside him. "You better do something fast."

"Or what?" Zevran challenged.

"Or," Rowan pretended to think it over a moment. "Or I walk out that door and tell Alistair where to find you."

"Ah," Zevran chuckled. "But then you will also be caught, and nude as the day the Maker gave you life, I might add. And not to be cruel, dearest, but it is _you_ , not I, that the nobles are coming to see. So, I fail to see the threat in your," he leaned down and kissed him, "threat."

Rowan scowled up at him. Zevran laughed.

"Come, come, don't look at me so." He continued to laugh when his warden's expression did not change. "It is not my fault you cannot think of a proper threat to get what you want."

Rowan's fine brow pinched in thought. He looked straight up at his lover and as serious as he could muster, he said, "I'll cut off my hair."

Zevran sucked in a breath as he studied his warden. "Never was I more wrong, my dear, you are a bargaining force to be reckoned with."

Rowan smiled sweetly, glad to have won. Zevran settled over his warden's naked hips and tangled a hand in that very hair he treasured so much.

"All threats and joking aside," he murmured. "I could never resist you, you must know this."

"I know this," Rowan answered playfully. "So do what we came here to do, _assassin_."

Zevran kissed him deeply to shut him up, all the while amused by his young lover's sassing. This, he mused, is what his warden would have been like for years yet to come if it hadn't been for the blight and the twist of fate that led Rowan from the Alienage. In many ways the blight had stolen Rowan's youth. But moments like this, now that the danger was over, would occur more often, he hoped. Rowan would be going to Amaranthine to begin rebuilding the Gray Wardens, and Zevran had every intention to follow him. He would never be parted from the young elf. After all, he'd sworn an oath. But that wasn't for some months and Zevran planned to take advantage of their down time, and Rowan, as much as possible.

Rowan was rotating his hips up against him, gasping around Zevran's kiss. Small uncontrollable utterances of need escaped his warden's lips and Zevran drank it up. Deft hands roamed the assassin's back kneading in places and gripping for purchase in others. When those nimble fingers found the waist of Zevran's pants, Rowan moaned in complaint. Zevran pulled away and chuckled at Rowan's childish pout.

"All right. For you," he said.

He sat up and unlaced his pants before sliding them easily down his narrow hips.

"Yes, amore," Zevran said catching Rowan's blushing smirk. "I have also apparently forgotten my underclothes. The scandal the pair of us make."

Rowan's protesting remark turned into a surprised hum of pleasure when Zevran ducked down and his mouth latched around the head of his sex. The assassin's tongue was a wicked thing; wicked to be able to wrest such noises from the young, alienage-grown elf who'd led such a sheltered life. Hard and ruthless in many cases, but sheltered. The knowledge Rowan had had of sex and all its pleasures were basic theory, certainly nothing involving another man, and no one warned him there were people who could do _this_ to him. Make him writhe, and moan, and want, and _need_.

Nothing could have ever prepared him for Zevran. Early on in their relationship Zevran's obvious skill made Rowan feel inadequate, or that Zevran deserved someone who could make him feel half as good as the assassin made Rowan feel. When finally Rowan had gotten up the courage to address the issue, Zevran only looked at him for a long time. Then finally, slowly, he said, "My dear warden, you make me feel more in one night than a hundred lifetimes in Antiva ever could have."

Rowan knew from that moment on something that would take his lover many months to figure out on his own, and even longer to admit.

Rowan did not worry after that. He learned, eagerly, and whatever he might have lacked in experience or skill he made up for in _enthusiasm_ , as Zevran pointed out with no shortage of amusement. Rowan couldn't take offense to the comment due to the honest delight in Zevran's eyes when he said it.

As deliciously wicked as that hot, wet mouth was…sliding up and down…licking…sucking…swallowing…

Rowan's hips bucked almost violently, the room echoed back the sound he'd made when his lover's throat constricted around him and he didn't recognize it as his own. He reached with both hands for his assassin's face and drew him up and away from his agonizingly hard cock.

Zevran watched the other lift his head to meet his gaze. Sweat trailed down from Rowan's temples, his cheeks were heated and flushed a beautiful rosy color against his creamy, sun-kissed skin. Those lavender eyes were hooded and dilated with arousal. The young hero was definitely on the edge, so to speak.

"Please," Rowan rasped, trying to catch his breath. "Not yet. I want you in me."

Zevran smiled. "Of course, amore. I always aim to please." His disarming smile slid into a mischievous grin when he noticed a generous amount of pre-cum leak out and slide down his warden's beautifully rigid cock. "Just one more taste." He started to return to his favored task when Rowan wound a hand in his blonde hair.

"Nooo," he moaned. "If you so much as lick me, I'll come."

 

~~TBC~~


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> continued from part 1

_"Nooo," he moaned. "If you so much as lick me, I'll come."_

Zevran smirked. The blood pooling in his groin heated significantly at the moaned statement. He crawled over his warden, matching their hips together and rubbed into the beautiful man beneath him. When Rowan moaned the assassin covered his mouth in a deep, searing kiss, taking the sexual sound into himself, stealing the breath of his lover making him pant against his lips for air. Zevran’s hand traveled up his warden’s side, over the muscled arms gripping around his shoulders, and slid up into the long silky hair he adored. Rowan usually braided it to keep it manageable and out of his face, but preferred to leave it down for the functions Alistair made him go to. The ex-crow knew his lover used his hair, intentionally or not, to hide some of himself from the shem he was still not entirely comfortable around. This moment was to make him forget all that and Zevran would do his best.

Zevran pulled away from their kiss to grant Rowan his breath, and dipped toward his lover’s throat. Sucking the soft flesh into his mouth he bit to lay his mark and his claim over the lavender-eyed elf. Rowan whimpered in response to the small amount of pain, spreading his legs to invite and encompass his lover as Zevran’s hips sank down fitting to him like a puzzle. 

“Zev, please,” Rowan whispered, fingers twining in golden hair holding his lover’s delicious mouth to his throat.

Unwilling to make either of them wait any longer Zevran reached for his trousers and pulled out a small, discreet vial. Removing the wax stopper with his thumbnail Zevran poured the precious small amount of oil into his palm and rubbed it over his eager erection. Then with what was left slicking his fingers he reached down and rubbed over his warden’s puckered ring of sensitive muscle. He eased his fingers inside, groaning at the tightness of the gripping, pulling portal. Rowan was more than ready. The warden’s panting moans interrupted the quiet afternoon-lit room.

“Ready for me, my dear warden?” Zevran murmured. Rowan’s lovely eyes looked up at him, blinking slowly with arousal. 

“Hurry, Zevran. Please.”

Zevran maneuvered his hips into place. With one hand he reached down to guide himself into the hot, silky passage. Rowan moaned, his head rolling back on the plush rug. When Zevran was entirely seated inside his lover he breathed deeply controlling his urge to pound into his lovely rogue.

“Oh, my dear warden,” Zevran panted as he drew his hips back and sunk back into his lover’s gripping body. “You are my sweetest indulgence. My temptation.”

“Ah,” Rowan gasped. Reveling the feel of his blonde lover moving above him, inside him, breathing into their heated kisses, along his jaw, against his throat. “Please.”

“That’s it, amore,” Zevran breathed. “Let me hear your pleasure. Moan my name for me.”

“Mmmn,” Rowan hummed as his lover delved deeply into him, rubbing pleasure through him with each slow thrust. 

Zevran angled his hips up and bumped against his warden’s sweet place. Rowan cried out, panting to catch his breath from the spike of arousal coursing through him.

“Zevran,” Rowan groaned when his devilish lover continued to rub and torture that pleasure spot. Fingers of one hand clenched in the blonde hair at the back of his assassin’s neck, the other hand gripping over the muscled back as Zevran moved above him.

Zevran quickened his pace, plunging deeply into his warden each time, on occasion stopping to rub that special place. Rowan cried out again loudly at one particularly deep thrust and the ex-crow smiled before kissing the panting, bruising lips. 

Right then they heard barking outside in the hall. The booming sound was getting closer. Then, somewhere far away in the castle they could hear Alistair’s voice yelling some kind of nonsense. Rowan sighed as the booming bark of the approaching mabari interrupted their heated coupling. 

“It seems his majesty has recruited your mabari to find you, my dear warden,” Zevran chuckled. 

Rowan covered his face with both hands and groaned, all the while his dog drew closer.

“Damn it,” Rowan muttered. “Damn it, Alistair. He doesn’t play fair.”

Zevran chuckled. “I did my best, amore, but it seems at this rate we’ll be discovered for sure. The royal buffoon is more devious than I ever gave him credit for.” 

Suddenly Rowan traded his frustrated frown for a grin. Zevran swore there must have even been a twinkle of mischief in the corner of those lovely eyes. 

“Keep moving, Zev,” Rowan murmured, reaching up to embrace his lover once more. Neither had lost their arousal. It would certainly take more than Bane’s bark and risk of discovery to quell that heat. It seemed to make the blood flush more in fact. 

Ever willing, Zevran moved. Pulling back till only the tip remained he plunged back in, and soon resumed his earlier rhythm. The Antivan elf smiled at his warden before leaning down and stealing a deep kiss. 

“I admit,” Zevran panted. “This smile of yours most intrigues me.” He planted a kiss at the corner of that smirking mouth. “What’s up your sleeve?”

“Zevran, I have no sleeves,” Rowan murmured, squeezing around his lover’s length. The Antivan closed his eyes riding the wave of pleasure.

“Little minx,” Zevran whispered, looking down into Rowan’s lovely flushed face.

Rowan breathed a gentle laugh. “Now,” he said, “no more talking.”

Outside in the hall they could hear when Bane rounded the corner and raced down the corridor toward their hideaway. Not terribly far behind were the shouts of Alistair and his guards. But they had a small window of time before the men barged around the corner as well.

Zevran continued to move within his warden, kissing and laving his tongue over the entirety of Rowan’s delicious, mildly salty throat. He couldn’t care less if they were discovered, but knew the more modest and easily embarrassed alienage-born elf beneath him would blush scarlet from head to toe for months afterward if such a thing were to occur. As enticing a sight that would be, he would much rather spare his warden the humiliation and discomfort. An unhappy Warden Commander was a very unhappy Zevran. So, he couldn’t help but wonder what Rowan was planning.

When the large mabari skidded to a stop outside their door and began barking, Zevran winced, but continued to love his warden. Concentrated on massaging him inside and out at his hands roamed over the orange-haired elf’s torso. Rowan turned his head to the side and spoke softly. So softly that no one but Zevran and the dog’s hypersensitive hearing would pick it out of the commotion caused by the group of men barging around the corner.

“Bane,” Rowan said. “Bane, listen to me.”

The barking stopped. Zevran could imagine the beast’s large head tilting to the side to listen. 

“Ha ha! We found them,” Alistair crowed from the hall.

“Bane, listen very carefully,” Rowan continued rather calmly in his soft voice. “You need to go to the kitchen, quickly. Noland told me he had a huge plate of table scraps for you.” Bane yipped.  
“Are they in there?” Alistair asked the dog. 

They heard the door handle jiggle. Zevran smirked into his lover’s throat. Angling his hips he rubbed over his warden’s sensitive place causing Rowan’s breath to hitch. 

“Take Alistair with you,” Rowan managed, fighting not to groan out loud as Zevran purposefully stimulated that amazing mound of nerves. Rowan hit Zevran’s arm, pressing his face into the blonde’s shoulder to bite back his moans. He knew the evil elf was doing it on purpose--testing to see if Rowan could keep quiet with the king and his guards right outside discussing if they should find the key or break down the door. 

Zevran smirked at his warden--continued to torture that pleasure place. 

“Well, my fearless warden,” he whispered. “What is your plan now?”

“Mmmn,” Rowan bit his lip, shivering from the sweet torture. He took a deep breath to steady him. “Bane,” he spoke quietly to his dog. “Did I mention it was a really big plate of scraps?” 

Bane let off a booming bark and took off down the hallway. Zevran and his trembling lover heard Alistair’s shocked exclamations and orders to follow that dog! The assassin laughed once it seemed safe to do so. 

“My dear, you are evil,” he said, love and amusement evident in his voice. 

“Teach him to try to use my own dog against me,” Rowan panted with a small lift at the corner of his delectable mouth. Zevran leaned down to capture that mouth with his and he savored the apple taste of his lover. 

A moment later Rowan groaned, the sound on the verge of pain. “Zevran,” he breathed heavily. “No more, please, I can’t…”

Zevran watched his exhausted warden. Sweat glistened over his face and chest, his reddened cock swollen and dripping milky pearls of pre cum. His warden’s creamy thighs gripped him and trembled with the strain. The Antivan continued to over stimulate the sensitive nub for a little longer simply because he could and it pleased him to see his lover squirm. Finally when a desperate whimper escaped the pleasure-tortured elf, Zevran showed his warden mercy. Shifting his hips down Zevran continued thrusting into his warden’s hot channel, bypassing the source of Rowan’s distress. Rowan’s hands on his shoulders gripped harder. Zevran’s face pressed into the other’s neck, his hands sliding behind his lover’s lifted shoulders to tangle in the long orange hair. They were so close.

They moved and panted and moaned together, breathing in the scent of their bodies, their sweat, and their sex. Rowan turned his lips toward his lover‘s face. Zevran could feel the erotic heat of his warden’s breath panting in his pointed ear. 

“Zev, please,” he said.

“I quite agree, amore,” Zevran panted.

One hand detached from silky hair and moved between them to grip Rowan’s weeping cock. Rowan cried out at the mere contact. A few gently pumps from his lover’s talented hand and Rowan came. He gripped his Antivan lover to him even as his head whipped back with his cry. Hot, syrupy streams shot between them immediately smearing and sticking their stomachs together. Zevran didn’t stand a chance at holding out any longer against his warden’s contracting inner muscles. They gripped him and squeezed around him in tremulous waves, milking him of his own pleasure.

Zevran pulled from his sweet lover’s used body and lay next to him. He didn’t want to smother his hot and exhausted warden, but he draped an arm and leg over him unwilling to separate entirely. 

After a while when they’d had time to catch their breath Zevran nuzzled into his warden’s hair. 

“Don’t fall asleep,” he murmured. Rowan gave a soft hum of acquiescence. Zevran lifted his head and chuckled at the peaceful look over his warden’s face--eyes closed in sleep’s temptation. The blonde elf reached over and ran a finger down the far side of his warden’s soft face, unaware of the smile gracing his lips as he appreciated the beauty that was Rowan. “Come, lovely,” Zevran said quietly. “You really mustn’t sleep now. Our poor Alistair will fret and fail to appear at his own function looking for you.” He kissed Rowan’s kiss-swollen lips. 

“I know,” Rowan murmured, blinking tired lavender eyes at his lover. “I’m so glad you’re here.” Zevran felt an aching in his heart. Witnessing the trust and honest love in his warden’s eyes was always so disarming. Zevran thanked whatever power was out there for leading him to this man. After a lifetime not knowing love, he knew this had to be protected and cherished always. 

“It’s my pleasure being here,” Zevran said.

Rowan leaned up and kissed him again briefly before they untangled and sat up to get dressed. When Rowan was pulling on his boots, Zevran leaned over.

“Noland will never forgive you for the ruckus going on in his kitchen right now,” Zevran said with a smirk.

Rowan laughed. “I know,” he said. “I’ll have to find some way to make it up to him. And bane…I expect I’ll have to give him my own dinner for the next couple nights to earn his forgiveness.” Rowan smiled. “A worthy sacrifice for any small moment with you.”

When the warden turned his kind smile toward his lover, the Antivan met him with a kiss that turned hungry and led them back down to the softness of the sun-warmed rug.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading.


End file.
